


Bleeding Love

by kagakuninjatai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, hanzo is the biggest thot, i guess??? ive never written nsfw shit in my life be gentle, mercy gets her pussy ate bc she deserves it more than anyone in this godforsaken universe, moira is just not having it, the mcgenji is just on the side like a salad, yall cowards for not calling this ship manzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagakuninjatai/pseuds/kagakuninjatai
Summary: as in the leona lewis song because a decade later that shit still slaps





	Bleeding Love

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know anything about overwatch lore and im not gonna start paying attention now.  
> also my first ever smut fic so pls be gentle
> 
> dedicated to the first hanzo main i ever teamed up with.  
> "In the few hours we had together, we loved a lifetime's worth." - Sarah Connor, The Terminator (1984)

The lights of the city shone brightly, making the clouds masking the stars from view shine a deep orange. The warm night breeze created just the right conditions that Angela could catch the thermal updrafts to soar high above the buildings, not having to rely heavily on her Valkyrie function to survey the mission playing out below. Every now and again shots would ring out, and she would swoop in to where she was needed, but the mission was going rather smoothly. _Too smoothly_ , she thought, moving a hand down to check that her pistol was still in its holster. It had fallen out once and that had been the one mission she had been cornered. She had scars from the bullet wounds she had received, but she had survived. Not without help, of course.

Sometimes, if she had been working in the lab for too long, or had been helping Winston or Moira with a project, or helping Lucio or Brigitte with their healing tech, and had not been sleeping, she would have nightmares about that mission. Originally, being so busy all the time she would just collapse at the end of the day and sleep a dreamless sleep, but overworking had just made it worse when the memories did hit her.

It had been dark then too. Much darker than it was now, for they had been out of the city. It was an escort mission. Simple, they had been told. While the others had surged forward, she had sat on the payload and monitored their vital signs from a distance. It had been like tonight, no one really taking any damage. She had spent most of her time boosting attacks but eventually everyone had moved out of her reach. She had rolled her eyes. It was just what they did, and no matter how much it irked her she could not change their minds about staying centred on the payload. Pharah would fly back to check on her and get healed up, but she would not see them for some time. It was a quiet moment, the vehicle droning beneath her and the far away sounds of missiles exploding the only things she could hear in the darkness, when they struck.

A pair of rough hands grabbed her and pulled her from atop her perch. She let out a loud cry that was quickly stifled by a hand covering her mouth. She bit down hard. A curse and the hand holding her wrists loosened. Taking the opportunity, she snatched back her arms and drove an elbow hard into her captor’s ribs. Once out of their grasp, she turned and kicked off the ground, spreading her wings to get that extra height, jumping back on top of the payload. She quickly realised they had driven into a trap: they had been so focussed on taking out the enemy soldiers further along that they had completely left themselves open to a sneak attack. Angela landed lightly and immediately moved to a defensive stance, moving her hand to pull her pistol from its holster on her hip, but her hand hit nothing but air. She froze, eyes flickering down. The holster’s strap hung undone and her small sidearm was nowhere to be seen. Bullets began to fly through the air and she quickly slipped over the side. The ear-splitting sound of bullets hitting the side of the payload made panic begin to rise in her throat. She waved a hand over the sensor to activate her comms, but on all channels all she got was static. Of course they had to bring a jammer. Balling her hands into fists, she grit her teeth and closed her eyes. The roar of submachine guns seemed endless, like the ocean, wave after wave hammering into the thin metal behind her back. It would not hold for much longer.

She had to move.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around for any other source of cover. There were a few trees, none thick enough to take more than a few rounds before they were torn to shreds. Through the dark she could see the drop of a ledge just a few metres away from her position. Shifting her body slightly so she had room, she readied her wings. That extra bit of thrust would make all the difference.

Suddenly the bullets stopped. With a spark of hope, she tried the comms again. Nothing. She heard a loud thump, a shout, and the clattering of gun magazines hitting the ground. A spatter of gunfire, this time not aimed in her direction, and more yelling piqued her curiosity. Moving carefully, she slowly peeked her head over the side of the payload. The enemy soldiers were all turned away from her, their leader yelling orders when he was interrupted with an arrow to the face. The crack of its impact ricocheted across the clearing and forced the leader’s body backwards before it landed with a hard thump, dust flying into the air. Cries rang out through the air as another flurry of arrows hit their varying marks.

She ducked back down and readied to move – the soldiers would only be distracted for so long. She quietly moved to a crouch. She listened. The gunfire moved away from her position once more. She sprang up, wings flared. The single jump had launched her most of the distance. She was going to make it. Already thinking ahead, planning on gathering herself and then working out how she could continue to support the team, she broke into a smile. They were going to make it.

_Crack._

_Crack._

_Crack._

 She hit the grass hard. Her breath knocked out of her, she coughed. The harsh metallic taste of blood coated her mouth. Blearily, she looked around at the shattered pieces of her wings. Her back felt warm. A growing wetness soaking down her spine led her to the slow realisation that she had been shot. She felt the fibres in her suit begin to move, to knit back together to put pressure on the wounds. She coughed again, and her mouth filled with blood once more. The yelling, the gunfire, all sound began to blur to a loud hum as her vision began to swim. She felt strong, sure hands roll her gently onto her back. A voice barked orders she could not understand, as the hands sat her up slowly. She felt warm skin press to the side of her face as she was cradled, a hand moving to rummage around in her belt for her emergency kit. She passed out quickly.

The mission had been a fantastic failure. Angela had heard about the chewing-out the team had received from a gleeful Moira whilst the smirking woman had swapped over an IV, an amused glimmer in her dark eyes. Moira continued as she changed the dressings, huffing at Jack having not sent a more well-rounded team. Moira asked her if she agreed and Angela just hummed. She knew it would not happen again. The next day she discharged herself from the sickbay and returned to her office, all of her wounds perfectly healed.

A vase full of sunflowers sat on her desk.

There was no note.

She sighed, adjusting the angle of her wings to drift higher in the air. Spotting him perched on a nearby rooftop, she drifted towards him. She watched as the display on her contacts pulled up his vitals. Breathing and heartrate were perfectly normal, controlled. She watched as he nocked another arrow and pulled the bowstring taut. His breathing slowed for a moment and then he released, hitting his mark perfectly. No wounds to speak of.

D.Va’s voice crackled through her earpiece and she responded in kind, swooping in to the centre of battle with her staff ready. She landed lightly behind the mech as it continued its assault and began to heal, the yellow stream repairing the cracks and dents in the machine’s hull.

Suddenly, an alert flashed up on her contacts. D.Va waved in thanks as Angela launched back into the sky. Pulling up the team’s details, Genji’s profile was flashing red. Usually perfectly slow and even, his heartrate was elevated to levels she had never seen him have before. His breathing was also showing irregularities. According to his suit’s sensors there were no signs of trauma. The sensors were usually able to pick up any injuries, but they had lied before. She steadied herself in the air and attempted to hail him.

“Genji? Genji, can you hear me?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the lack of response. She checked the monitor again. Location markers augmented themselves below her and she spotted Genji in a secluded corner, along with… McCree? She switched frequencies and tried again. “McCree, come in. Jesse, can you hear me?” Again there was no answer. Satisfied with the status of the rest of the team, she glided down just around the corner from where the markers said the two men were. She readied the small pack of tech she carried, in case Genji had damaged any of his cybernetics.

She was ruffling in the satchel as she rounded the corner. “Neither of you two answered me and I think my sensors may be on the fritz again, Genji are you all… right….” She lifted her head from the bag. It took a while to process what was happening.

The alley was dark, far away enough from the fighting to not be in danger but close enough to know what was still happening. The two men were close to the wall, embracing. Cowboy hat and metal mask discarded on top of a heap of clothes at their feet. McCree had one hand on Genji’s waist, pulling him close, the other entwined in Genji’s free hand. Genji’s other hand was grasped in McCree’s hair, dragging the cowboy’s lips to meet his.

Angela could feel the heat rise in her face. She cleared her throat loudly, wringing her hands awkwardly as she waited for the men to notice her. She thought that maybe she still had a chance to back away slowly and pretend she had not seen anything when McCree finally spotted her. He pushed Genji away and scooped up his hat, shoving it back on his head with a cough.

“Uh, hey Ange, we were just…” He tilted the hat over his face but she could still see the blush on his cheeks.

“I, uh, there were some irregularities with Genji’s readings and you know how I’ve been having tech issues so I, um, I wanted to come check and you were together so I tried calling you, Jesse, but neither of you answered so I came to check and… and…” Babbling, she could not look at either of them. She could see Genji hiding behind McCree, not even looking in her direction, and sighed. “I’m just going to head back just, uh, stay safe.” She launched into the air and headed back to the defence point, feeling absolutely mortified.

Attaching herself to D.Va once again, she continued her support duties. It was still quiet, so her mind kept wandering back to what she had just witnessed. Had there been signs? She had seen Genji and Jesse spending more time together, like sitting together for meals in the cafeteria, when she had actually managed to leave the lab to have a proper meal, but other than that they had been behaving in the same way as they always had been. Although Genji had been decidedly chattier when he had come in for maintenance…. And Jesse had been distracted during training the past few sessions in the shooting range… Oh god, and what should she say? Should she even mention it? Of course, she would support them in every way she could, but would they know that? Now she was dreading the flight home… Was she the only one who knew? What was everyone else going to say? What-

Air blew past her cheek and she heard wet _thunk_ behind her, followed by a heavy thud. She turned and froze. The corpse of one of the enemies lay at her feet, a single arrow protruding from their visor.

“Are you alright?” Hana’s voice chimed from her mech’s speakers.

Angela swallowed, . “I… Yes. I’m fine.”

“If you need some time to recover, do so.” Satya called as she recreated a turret that had been destroyed in the last wave of attacks. “We will hold the point.”

She nodded slowly. “I will check back in soon.”

Satya waved her elegantly away and Angela took to the skies once more.

~~~~~~~

The flight back to base was hell.

Angela sat at the back of the plane and pretended to work on her staff. Fiddling with the switch from boost to heal, she tried to give off the vibe that she was busy when in reality she was panicking about what she would say to Jesse when they got back to base. He had gotten shot and she would have to remove the bullet once they got back. She looked up and watched as he chatted to Hana, brushing off her concern over his wound with a deep chuckle and a fluid subject change. Genji sat on his other side, mask on his lap, a small smile on his face.

The tiny screwdriver in her hand slipped, nicking her thumb. She cursed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the reactive tears filling her eyes. Sighing, she inspected her thumb. The tip had gouged a small cut in the digit and it was quickly beginning to bleed.

The seat next to hers creaked and shifted, and she looked up.

“Are you alright?”

She smiled and nodded. “Nothing I can’t handle, Hanzo.”

His dark eyes narrowed, and he slowly stretched a hand towards hers. Callused fingers gently gripped her wrist and she let him pull her hand towards him. He twisted her hand, inspecting the cut. Her hand looked so fragile within his grasp, her delicate ivory skin contrasting greatly against his worn bronzed hands. She watched him curiously, head tilted to one side. His grip loosened and her hand began to slip through his until his fingers hooked on hers. Holding them gently, he gracefully moved her hand to his face, his lips lightly brushing her fingers. She let out a quiet gasp. His eyes flicked back to her face. There was something dangerous in his gaze, and Angela froze. She did not even dare to breathe. Their eyes locked for a moment before Hanzo blinked slowly, and returned his attention to the cut on her thumb, still lazily leaking blood. He pulled her hand closer and opened his mouth. He dragged his tongue lazily over the pad of her thumb, encircling the cut. He moved his lips over the cut and she felt it begin to sting as he sucked gently. Heat rose through her neck to the top of her head and she bit down hard on her lip, stifling the _very_ inappropriate noise growing in the back of her throat as she felt his teeth graze her skin.

Jesse’s loud guffaw snapped her back to reality. Eyes wide in horror, she whirled her head towards where the others were sitting. The warm wet of Hanzo’s mouth released her thumb slowly, and his free hand reached for her face, forcing her attention back to him.

“You spend all your time caring for others…” He purred. “Perhaps it’s time for someone to care for you.”

The heat in her face increased a thousand-fold, and she looked at her feet, spluttering words even she could not understand as she pulled her hand from his grasp and shoved it in her lap. His heady chuckle reverberated through her chest and as suddenly as he had appeared next to her, he was gone, leaving her alone in her seat with her mouth slightly agape and her face bright red. She sat there for a moment, shocked, trying to process what had just happened. The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. She clapped her hands to her cheeks and buried her face in them.

~~~~~~~

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Angela.”

Startled from her thoughts, she disguised her flinch by standing up from her desk and stretching. “I’m just tired, Moira. It’s been a long night.”

The other woman raised an eyebrow at her, and Angela just smiled and shrugged. Moira stood against the door of her office, arms folded loosely against her chest. She had already discarded her labcoat and Angela knew she was here to say goodnight.

“Not as long as mine.” Moira scowled.

Angela sighed.

“From what I heard while I was treating our dear McCree, the mission went quite smoothly.” She drawled. Pushing off the doorframe, she stepped up to the desk and pointed a clawed finger in Angela’s face. “You owe me for that one, by the way.”

Angela shuffled some papers on her desk, attempting to bring some order to the chaos. Her office always looked like a bomb had hit it, but the medical staff were drowning in paperwork this week more than usual. Grabbing a pile of medical files in her arms, she walked over to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Using one of her feet, she pulled open the bottom drawer and proceeded to dump the papers unceremoniously in with a heavy thud. She heard Moira huff and looked up to see that the other woman had spun on her toes, making her way back out the door. Angela kicked the drawer shut and opened another above it, rifling through some old experiment notes.

The sterile white light is suddenly gone and she hears Moira call, “Go to bed, Ziegler.”

She stands in the dark for a while before stepping carefully over to her desk and turning the small lamp on. The warm light only illuminates the immediate area surrounding it. Biting her lip, she sits back down in the chair. Worrying her lip with her teeth, she spins the seat around a few times before slowly coming to rest facing the window. She still did not look at the clock but knew it was getting close to dawn, the first touches of sunlight hinted at along the horizon.

She stands up, stretching languidly and stifling a yawn as she moves to the little coffee machine in the corner. Pulling a mug from a shelf, she turns on the machine and her coffee begins to brew. The loud whirr of the cranky old machine fills the air. Winston keeps telling her to upgrade it but she thought the money was better spent elsewhere. The noisy thing may be old but it still made one hell of a cup of coffee. She took a long sip and turned back to her desk.

“I didn’t think you would still be here.”

She jumped, coffee splashing out of her cup and onto the floor. She turned to spot Hanzo leaning in the doorway, casually clad in a t-shirt and jeans. She huffed a laugh at her reaction and sat the steaming mug down on her desk. Quirking an eyebrow at him, she walked back over to her kitchen nook to find some paper towel to mop up her spill. “There’s always paperwork to be done in this place.” Grabbing a handful, she gracefully knelt to the floor to soak up the liquid, praying that she wouldn’t have added yet another stain to the carpet. Dabbing at the spot, she asked nonchalantly, “Should I be concerned that you’re looking for me at this time of night?” 

His feet came into view and she looked up at him. He offered his hand to help her off the floor and she took it, muttering a thank you. They stood quietly, and Angela felt the heat from earlier return to her cheeks as she watched his thumb rub gently over her knuckles. The motion stopped abruptly, and she felt his other hand softly cup her cheek. Dragging her eyes from their entwined hands, she looked into his dark eyes, usually so harsh, now softened as they meet her curious, wide-eyed gaze.

She wants to say that the exhaustion made her act on it but she knew she would be lying to herself. She pushes herself up on her toes and kisses him. It is soft and unsure, a light brush of her lips against his. She feels the heat in her cheeks spread to her ears as she steps back, gazing back at him from below her long lashes. She goes to speak, to explain herself, but he pulls her back to his arms and kisses her again. His kiss is harsher, more forceful, and she is reminded of how they clashed so long ago when they first met. She grabs a fistful of his hair and drags him closer. His tongue pushes against her lips and she yields to him eagerly.

They part for air and he moves quickly, grabbing hold of her hips and lifting her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and grasps his shoulders tightly as he kisses her again. He nips at her lower lip and she moans into his mouth. He breaks the kiss at that and looks at her once more. Her face is red, she’s panting, and she can feel the wetness of saliva on her cheek: she knows she looks a mess. But him? Hanzo still looks like the peak of the human condition, despite his dishevelment, and she absolutely despises him for it. Her frustration must show on her face because he huffs a laugh before he takes a few steps, the backs of her legs hitting her desk.

He puts her gently down on the clearest space on the desktop he can find, trying not to disturb the piles of paperwork sprawled across it. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips once more and she wraps her arms around his neck. Brushing his lips along her jaw, he moves down her neck, dragging his teeth along her sensitive nape. She shudders against him, crying out as he bites down. He continued to graze his teeth along the spot, tracing the marks with his tongue while his hand began to creep up her thigh. She squirmed at the sudden brush of fingers in the hem of her underwear, fingertips ghosting over her entrance. Gently, she pushed him back as he pushed up her skirt.

“Are you sure?” She breathed.

He kissed her deeply once more in response. “You deserve it.” He murmured back.

She lifted her hips from the desk so he could pull her underwear down. The cool air hit her and she shivered. With a guiding hand on her knee, she shyly spread her legs wide enough for him to fit between. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he knelt between her legs. He began to kiss along her inner thigh, her breath hitching as he moved closer to her entrance. She laced a shaky hand into his soft, dark hair as he buried his face inside her.

His tongue began to lap against her clit as a hand traced along her thigh, the sudden warm wetness causing her to cry out. He slid his tongue over her skin once again, tracing it along her opening in one slow caress before turning his attention back to her clit. He traced it with his serpentine tongue, causing her to let out another whimper, arching her back. He hummed at her reaction and the vibration of it had electricity shooting straight through her. He sucked the nub between his lips and she let out a louder moan. He teased her, alternating between lazily sliding his tongue across her folds and then moving his attention back to her clit, without any apparent need to move things along or notice her growing desperation.

It had been a long time since she had done anything like this, with anyone, and the stimulation was quickly becoming too much. The graze of his teeth against her clit accompanied by a hard suck was her undoing. Her grip in his hair tightened, her thighs squeezing around his neck, as she rolled her head back and let out a wanton moan. Stars clouded her vision as the nerves in her belly released their tension and she sighed. Relaxing her grip, she moved her hands to the desktop and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t believe what she had just done.

A hand on her chin directed her gaze back to reality. Hanzo stood before her, panting, his face covered with her wetness. Despite that, and the fact she had completely ruined his hair, he still looked immaculate. He pulled her in for a kiss and she could taste herself in his mouth. As the heat in her belly returned, she wrapped her arms around his neck once more, wishing that they could stay like that for just a little longer. She could feel his smile against her lips. He broke the kiss, reaching up to gently untangle himself from her arms. He held her hands in his for a moment, before stepping back.

“I should leave you to your work.”

She watched, dazed, as he left as abruptly as he arrived. She sat on the desk until the sunlight began to stream through the large windows, illuminating her office.

Her coffee had gone cold.

~~~~~~~

She yawns as she waits for her toast in the cafeteria, coffee in one and checking the days paper with the other.

“Mornin’, Ange.”

She looks up with a smile. “Good morning, Jesse.”

McCree smiles at her. He grabs a bowl and begins to fill it with cereal. They stand in companionable silence which is only broken when Angela’s toast pops up out of the toaster. She grabs a plate and drops the slightly burnt bread on it. She pulls a knife out of the drawer and reaches for the peanut butter.

“Hey, uh, about yesterday…” McCree begins, cheeks reddening. His hand comes up and rubs at his neck.

“What?” Angela looks up from her breakfast and when McCree doesn’t meet her eyes, she remembers what he’s talking about. “Oh! Oh, Jesse, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

She tears off a mouthful of toast and chews thoughtfully, nodding. “’s fine. Just means I have to tinker with my monitoring equipment. Speaking of, I have to hurry back up to the lab.”

He nods and she turns to leave.

“Ange? You got a…” She turns, looking quizzically back at McCree. He gestures vaguely to his neck, rubbing a finger up the nape. “You got a lil’ somethin’ on your neck.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, opening her mouth to ask him for clarification when her mind caught up with her and she stopped. Eyes wide, she snapped a hand to her neck, face flushing red. “R-right.” She stammered. McCree smiled slyly and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

She was going to kill Hanzo.

 


End file.
